Atonement
by TwinOfDoom
Summary: The idea isn't mine: Post-Endgame; AU; J/C (Established relationship - more or less): A review of one of Janeway's command decisions leads to a court-martial, expulsion from Starfleet, and a long penal colony sentence. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own anything and I'm not getting any money out of writing this. I got the idea from a challenge I once saw somewhere.

* * *

Kathryn Janeway felt her throat tighten as the small shuttle made its descent. She hadn't pictured her return to the site like this – to be honest: she hadn't really thought she'd ever need to set foot there ever again.

Her mind wandered back to her last visit, which had won her the best pilot she could have hoped for. Tom Paris had served eighteen months in this penal colony prior to Voyager's stint in the Delta Quadrant. Now, they were all back in Starfleet territory. Upon arrival, Tom had already been restored to his former rank, and Starfleet Command hadn't argued against that decision.

Kathryn could feel a bitter smile tugging at her lips. THAT decision had not been the one that had booked her on this trip to Auckland, New Zealand.

She had never really talked to Tom about how conditions had been during his incarceration, but as the shuttle touched down, she really wished she had taken the time to do that. Even though prisons these days were incomparable to what they had been in previous centuries, Kathryn was feeling decidedly anxious about what she would find here.

"Ma'am?" Kathryn fixed her gaze on the young lieutenant who had been assigned to ensure her safe arrival. He appeared flustered, clearly unsure of how to respectfully address or approach her. He looked young enough to be her son. Perhaps he had even decided to apply to Starfleet Academy because of the Voyager mystery. She offered him one of her more dazzling smiles. No need to make the boy feel any more uncomfortable than he clearly already did. He was blushing fiercely as he picked up his phaser rifle, holding it diagonally in front of his body with both hands.

"I'm very sorry, Admiral. I'm gonna have to ask you to step out of the shuttle now." He really did sound apologetic.

Kathryn nodded, got up and reached to straighten her uniform. She felt a rush of gratitude that she had been allowed to wear it one final time before donning the grey overalls worn by all inmates.

Inmates. Criminals. She was part of that crowd now.

She set her jaw and strode confidently down the ramp. Blistering heat greeted her. The midday sun took her sight for an instant. She lingered at the end of the ramp for a moment, taking in the platform the shuttle had landed on. Kathryn could smell the ocean from here.

Her guard cleared his throat and she set off again, nearing the wrought-iron gate. A small group of people stood there, flanking the gate like a guard of honour.

She could already guess who might be among them, so she began schooling her features to the proud expression of someone who is fully aware of her crimes and is prepared to go down for them. The last thing she wanted was to appear weak.

The closer Kathryn got, the harder it was to keep her face neutral. When she was close enough to see their expressions, she had to redouble her efforts.

She was reminded of Neelix' farewell when she passed the first few of her former crew. Voyager had been back for several months now, and most of her 'family' had been assigned to other vessels or research facilities. Still, she counted no fewer than forty officers and crewmen. The lump in her throat swelled as she nodded and smiled at them. The former bridge crew stood nearest the gate, faces turned attentively towards their erstwhile captain. Seeing Tom, B'Elanna, the Doctor, Harry, Seven, Tuvok, and Chakotay like this – sombre and silent – broke her heart. B'Elanna had brought Miral, and the infant seemed to have picked up on the mood. Kathryn put her hand on the engineer's face, then bent down to kiss Miral, smelling the top of her tiny head with a smile. She took a few seconds to acknowledge all of them: a handshake here, a pat there. Harry seemed to be on the verge of tears, so she hugged him. She had always considered herself his foster-mother. After she had let go, he hurriedly wiped a tear off his face.

Tuvok was next, and she tried to calm her conflicting emotions. This was the first time they'd seen each other since the hearing, and a part of her was angry at the Vulcan, even though she had no right to be. Kathryn didn't trust her voice at the moment, so she simply raised her hand in the customary salute and watched him imitate her.

At the very end of the line, Chakotay was waiting for her. Kathryn felt her stomach tighten as she approached him. He had been with her when the summons had been served on her, he had supported her throughout her trial, and she had invited him into her bed when everything had come tumbling down around her.

He was the one thing in her life that still made sense.

She wasn't fond of public displays of affection, and she knew Chakotay wasn't either, but it felt wrong to pretend like this was just another goodbye. She had been holding back the tears, but the battle was lost when Chakotay placed his warm hand on her cheek. Kathryn copied him, holding his face between her hands, drinking in his image. Before she could stop herself, she was suddenly on her tiptoes, connecting their lips in a bittersweet kiss that spoke of desperation, sadness and fear. For an instant, it seemed like they were alone, safe. Kathryn wanted nothing more than to stay locked inside this kiss forever, but a pronounced cough cut through her reverie. When Chakotay broke the kiss, they both stayed silent for a moment, foreheads resting together, both panting slightly.

Finally, Kathryn wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and stood back. She hoped that Chakotay could tell how grateful she was to him. His smile was tight, but the warmth in his eyes was as present as it had ever been.

With a final glance at her gathered friends, Kathryn turned and allowed herself to be escorted through the gate and into the first building for processing. Her chest ached and her eyes and throat stung from trying to suppress further tears.

It was going to be a long time until she saw them gathered like that again ...

* * *

T.B.C.

Please read + review. I thrive on reviews. :P


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, guys! I loved them and they mean a lot to me. :)

* * *

Kathryn was a little proud of herself, and of her former first officer. Even though Voyager had been stripped of its futuristic shielding and picked apart as if by vultures, its crew scattered, its databases downloaded and analysed, the two of them still managed to find the time for their weekly dinners.

It didn't matter that Kathryn was an admiral now and Chakotay was set to embark on his first mission as captain. The only thing that had really changed about their dinners was the fact that they didn't have the confines of either of their quarters to contend with anymore.

Instead, they could just go out to eat like a regular couple. Kathryn caught herself. She'd begun to think of the two of them as an item, and she was almost scared by how easy it was to slip into that habit. They weren't really dating, after all.

She wasn't entirely sure what was stopping them – on most nights – from going out to grab dinner, but somehow, the familiar setting of just the two of them seemed more appealing by far than heading out into the crowded streets of San Francisco.

Kathryn was counting on that tonight. She had no desire whatsoever to venture out tonight. They had tried that last week, and it had been a fairly stressful evening. The restaurant had lost their reservation, and they'd had to settle for street food, which had been good, but running around town with food in her hand wasn't exactly her kind of dinner.

She was just putting the finishing touches on her table decoration, lighting the long white candle that stood at the centre of the round glass table, when her door chime sounded.

"Come in," she called, glancing over her shoulder at the newcomer.

Chakotay stood in the doorway, holding a steaming casserole.

"Good Evening, Admiral!" He stepped into her apartment, beaming.

Kathryn took the dish from him and walked over to her open kitchen.

"It smells absolutely delicious! What is it? And don't think that I'm just trying to gloss over the fact that you just called me Admiral."

Chakotay's chuckle was music to her ears. He grinned and rubbed his chin sheepishly. "I wouldn't dare to think that," he said in mock outrage. "Wouldn't want to make the Admiral angry!"

She aimed a playful punch at him and caught him in the ribs. He winced, but it probably hadn't been much more than a tickle. Kathryn loved how relaxed they had become around each other, now that they were back in the 'real world'.

She let out a laugh, then put on one of her best stern looks, and handed her friend a ladle and oven cloth.  
"As soon as you're done mocking me, _Captain_ , we can get started on our dinner." She picked up the dish again and carried it over to the table, accidentally bumping into him on the way. Okay, it might have been deliberate.

They made short work of Chakotay's hominy casserole and were soon enjoying dessert while lounging on Kathryn's sofa. Neither of them was wearing their shoes anymore, and Kathryn had actually put her legs across Chakotay's lap.  
It felt so easy. Kathryn stretched to put her empty bowl on the couch table, then propped herself up on her elbow, watching him scrape the last spoonful of mousse au chocolat out of his own bowl.

"I really miss having the crew all in one place," she confessed. "I feel like I took it for granted that most of the people I consider my family were always within arm's reach."

Chakotay had finished his dessert. He put the bowl onto Kathryn's table and turned slightly in his seat to face her, just looking at her for a moment. She could tell that he was trying to find the right phrasing. He slowly shook his head. "I don't think that you took it for granted at all. As a matter of fact, I can recall numerous conversations we've had over the past years in which you told me all about Naomi's new plans or the most recent strides Seven was taking towards individuality."

Kathryn felt a rush of affection for the two crewmembers that had probably benefitted most from her guidance. Nostalgia followed suit. She smiled softly. "You always know what to say." She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "Still, I can't shake the feeling that I will never have this again."

Chakotay exhaled and settled more comfortably on the couch, trying and failing to suppress a grin. In response to her incredulous expression, he looked at her, his warm eyes full of some emotion she couldn't quite discern. "It's nothing."

Kathryn sat up, withdrawing her legs from his lap in the process. "Oh no, mister! You don't get to dangle something like this in front of me and then –"

He was laughing now, trying to placate her by holding up his hands. "Ok, I surrender. I almost forgot how curious you were."

She huffed, determined not to let him off easy.

It was Chakotay who took her hand this time. "I'm sorry, Kathryn. I shouldn't have laughed. I was just thinking that none of us are ever going to have anything like that again. The relationships we had the privilege of forming on Voyager ... our mission was unique. That's what makes it so special."

Mollified, Kathryn looked down at their intertwined hands. "Do you ever miss it? Voyager?"

Chakotay sought and held her gaze. His free hand came up to tuck a curl of auburn hair behind her ear. "More than I would admit to anyone else," he stated, his voice almost a whisper.

Kathryn's throat suddenly felt constricted, and she cast around for a change of topic.

"You know what I don't like about this place?" She gestured around the apartment.

Chakotay seemed to come out of a trance, removing his hand from her cheek.

"What?" he smiled, putting one arm on the backrest of the sofa and draping the other casually across her legs.

"It's too quiet. I couldn't sleep for a while, because I didn't have _Voyager_ 's engines to lull me to sleep."

He chuckled. "You must be the twentieth person to say that to me. One or two even admitted to having the computer play a recording."

She raised her eyebrows and pointed at him. "Now, _that's_ a brilliant idea! Why didn't I think of that?"

Chakotay was just about to respond when the doorbell sounded for the second time that evening.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: You guys, thanks so much for your great reviews. I hope I can manage to update more frequently.

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In this chapter, I will jump between points of view. I hope I've succeeded in making it obvious whose they are.

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"Please state your name and rank for the record."

Kathryn must have zoned out during the strip search. She wondered idly if that was really necessary in times of tricorder imaging, but she reckoned that there must have been incidents to warrant such archaic measures.

When the guard had given the all-clear, Kathryn had had to put on one of the regulation overalls worn by all inmates. The guard had taken her uniform and the few personal belongings she'd had in her pockets.

She focused her attention on the woman standing before her, padd in hand. "Admiral Kathryn Janeway," she said tonelessly. Almost as an afterthought, she added: " _Former_ Admiral."

The officer checked her padd, then nodded. "Follow me, inmate."

"I feel like shit for letting them take her like that," Tom muttered – a bit too loudly – as he turned to his wife and infant daughter. B'Elanna herself was seething, grief and anger warring for dominance in her chest.

While she and the captain hadn't started out in the best place, butting heads frequently and fiercely, their matching professional zeal had quickly reconciled them and over the years, the women had even become family. Watching Captain Janeway surrender just then had been one of the toughest things she'd had to witness in a while. This was saying something, since B'Elanna herself had had to watch her friends being assimilated by the Borg only the previous year.

She moved Miral, holding her securely to her shoulder, and caught Tom's restless gaze.

"There was nothing we could have done differently. We were all questioned and I'll be damned if any one of the senior officers testified against her."

She said those words as much to assuage her own guilt as Tom's. They all knew that the unfortunate incident Janeway had been put on trial for had been exceedingly brutal on their captain – on all of them, really. B'Elanna distinctly remembered numerous conversations with her friends about their collective loss, and she hadn't been immune either ...

Tom put an arm around her and held her tightly; he had always had a special place in his heart for the captain, the woman who'd known about his past and still put him on the bridge of her starship. He had confided in B'Elanna how glad he was that the captain's leap of faith had turned his life around. The same could be said for B'Elanna herself. She had joined the Maquis after her dismissal from the Academy. She had learned that her issues with her Klingon heritage had deprived her of much of the success the future might have held for an engineer of her expertise. B'Elanna had been forced to deal with those issues extensively over the past seven years, and she had come to terms with the fact that the Klingon was as much a part of her as the human.

She had even given up wondering what Tom could possibly see in her. Ever since Miral was born, B'Elanna had realised how stupid she had been for wanting to mess with her daughter's genetic makeup. She shuddered to think how damaging it would have been for Miral to experience her mother's hatred of her Klingon side like that. Even if B'Elanna's meddling had somehow resulted in a healthy child, that child would still have seen that it was different from its mother, something that would have undoubtedly confused the kid.

Tom's arms around her tightened somewhat. "What about him?"

B'Elanna followed her husband's gaze, although she didn't really have to. She knew that he was as worried about Chakotay as she was. For all the animosity that had once existed between them, the relationship between the two men was now characterised by mutual trust and respect.

Chakotay looked even worse than B'Elanna felt. She'd visited him only a few days ago to check on him in the aftermath of the verdict. She knew how much work he and the captain had put into ensuring that justice was served and that everyone who was following the high-profile case knew what had really happened the day that Janeway had committed 'the crime'.

None of the former crew had missed the display of affection between their commanding officers, but she didn't think anyone was really surprised at the profound emotion that the two officers had laid bare just then.

B'Elanna felt a surge of anger – at whomever – for keeping the two of them from coming to terms with their feelings until recently. They could have had years together on Voyager and it seemed like a cruel twist of fate that they were being forced apart again.

She realised that Tom was already on his way over to his former CO, and it looked like his action gave some of the other people gathered the nudge they'd needed to approach Chakotay.

* * *

"I feel like shit for letting them take her like that." Chakotay almost smiled. That statement was trademark Tom Paris. Tom's blunt words probably rang true for many of their group, but for Chakotay, they opened up a deep wound in his heart. He felt absolutely useless, standing there – in front of the wrought-iron gates – amid the skeleton of Kathryn's former crew.

* * *

While she was pushing Kathryn down a narrow corridor, the guard explained that Kathryn's first week in prison would see her in a single cell. She claimed that it was for everyone's safety. Kathryn tried to listen, but truthfully, the reality of her situation was beginning to sink in.

Her throat still felt tight and her stomach was churning at the thought of spending any time at all in this place. It was by no means her first incarceration, but it felt so much more daunting, somehow.

The hopelessness that belied her calm exterior was overwhelming, plunging her mind into a downward spiral.

"This is you," the guard stated, placing her hand on Kathryn's shoulder to stop her. The door to her cell stood open, allowing a view of a narrow cot and a tiny sink.

Kathryn scarcely had time to wonder why a 24th century prison would have to have actual doors instead of forcefields or computerised bulkheads, before the guard addressed her again: "Inmate! You'll stay in your cell until further notice. You will be allowed to use the facility's washroom twice a day. You will eat your meals in your cell, you will sleep in your cell, and you will spend your whole day in your cell."

Kathryn had wandered into the cell, and turned to face the guard when she had stopped talking. The other woman seemed to tower over her, her expression menacing. The guard crossed the distance between them, fury etched into her features.

Admiral Kathryn Janeway would not have backed off, wouldn't even have flinched. But somehow - she was ashamed to admit it - the legendary captain of the starship Voyager, rewarded and honoured by Starfleet with an admiralcy, didn't seem to be inside her at all.

Intimidated, she backed away until her calves hit the edge of the cot, forcing her to flop down on it, the guard still advancing.

The other woman's voice was sharp and cold when she said: "If you mess up, if you cause trouble - any trouble at all - I'll make sure you don't see the outside of this cell for a month!"

Before Kathryn had really processed the sudden shift in the guard's behaviour, she had already slammed the door. The scraping of the key in the lock was the last thing she heard before the gaping chasm of despair swallowed her.

* * *

T.B.C.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks a heap for your patience and the wonderful reviews!

A/N: This fic is turning out to be a lot darker and more angsty than I had intended, but I've decided to go with it. Expect more updates soon. :)

* * *

Eyes on the gate, Chakotay was only aware of Tom's sudden proximity when the younger man cleared his throat.

"Some of us were thinking about grabbing a bite to eat before we all head home. Care to join us?"

Chakotay glanced around at the others, all of them struggling to conceal the various degrees of sorrow on their faces.

"Thanks, Tom, but I think I'd better get going. Rain check?"

It was obvious that Tom had expected an answer like that, and he wasn't deterred: "No, offence, Chakotay, but you look like a ghost. I know what you're going through," Tom stated, and – lowering his voice – he added: "You shouldn't be alone right now ..."

He was right. While the prospect of going out to lunch with some of his former crew would usually seem like a great opportunity to catch up with their respective lives, at the moment he wanted nothing more than to go home and fall to pieces in the privacy of his own home. He didn't want an audience. He didn't want sympathy, and least of all he wanted to reminisce about their days aboard _Voyager_.

Nonetheless, he found himself nodding and forcing a smile so artificial it hurt. "Sounds great."

The beam-in site in downtown San Francisco wasn't very crowded, and so it took less than an hour until they were all seated around a long table at a restaurant. Chakotay wasn't really sure which restaurant it was or even what he had just ordered.

The others quickly recovered from their shared experience and were soon making jokes, enjoying their meals, and telling their favourite Janeway stories. It took Chakotay a few minutes to compose his features, but then he started scanning the familiar faces. Most of the crew were laughing by now, while a young ensign from _Voyager_ 's security staff was sharing a story about how he had once happened upon the captain in a state of agitation. During their first year in the Delta Quadrant, they'd had to conserve energy, and the entire crew had been forced to make sacrifices when it came to personal indulgences. For Kathryn, that had meant that she'd had to forgo coffee.

There was no way that anyone who had spent more than a few hours with the captain could be unaware of her caffeine addiction, and the ensign was garnering much laughter from his description of how the lack of coffee had driven her to raiding Neelix's pantry, where she had caused enough of a clatter to alert security.

Chakotay smiled despite himself. He chose not to disclose that more than once he had used his own limited replicator rations to help her stave off withdrawal symptoms. Remembering the look she had given him on those occasions drove a spear through his heart.

At the end of their meal, however, everyone was in high spirits, and even Chakotay had caught himself chuckling with the others from time to time.

When they had all finished and were shrugging back into their jackets, Tom approached him again. "You know, if you have any questions about what it's like … in there …," Tom offered, straightening the collar on his rain coat.

Chakotay nodded. "Thanks, Tom. I'll get back to you on that."

He doubted that knowing about the conditions and treatment Kathryn would have to endure would help him deal, but later that evening, he found that his brain was conjuring up the worst case scenario of torture and persecution. By the time he finally went to bed, visions of Kathryn being brutally beaten or threatened prevented him from finding sleep. After a few hours of tossing from side to side, calling Tom seemed like the only reasonable option.

* * *

Kathryn found that she had already lost track of time. When her cell door was unbolted, she could not have said if minutes or hours had passed since the guard had locked her in. A window would have helped her determine the time of day, but Kathryn supposed that being denied the view of the clear New Zealand sky was just another way of punishing the inmates.

She rose when the door opened and was pleasantly surprised that it was not the same guard who entered the cell.

The bathroom experience was another pleasant surprise. It was very clean and she had it all to herself ... with the exception of the guard. As Kathryn combed her hair, she wondered idly why she hadn't seen any people around the premises who weren't humans. She was quite certain that she had seen at least two or three off-worlders during her last visit, so why wouldn't there be any now? As she came to think of it, she hadn't seen any inmates. There seemed to be only the guards around, so the prison was eerily quiet.

"Is it always like that?" she finally asked, as she was being escorted back to her cell. "It's much quieter than I remember."

The guard glanced at her, but said nothing.

"I just mean that it seems strange for a building that's filled with people - there's remarkably little noise."

The guard did answer that time: "We run a tight ship."

They reached Kathryn's cell in no time and she was locked up again. As she sat down on her narrow cot, the guard's words reverberated in her mind, dragging a memory to the fore that she had almost succeeded in repressing.

Captain Ransom had said almost those exact words to her while they had been making repairs aboard the _Equinox_. 'You seem to run a pretty tight ship,' had been his assessment of her style of command. Thinking about the man whose own determination to get his crew home had resulting in the deaths of countless living beings, Kathryn hated how similar she was to him.

Back on _Voyager_ , there had been days, weeks even, when she couldn't remember why she had decided against using the Caretaker's array, why she hadn't traded technology with this alien race or that, why she had insisted on upholding the Prime Directive to the detriment of her own crew …

Her mind was so used to those thought patterns that she couldn't do a thing to stop them. The dizzying whirl of guilt and shame, of anger and anguish, weighed her down until she finally fell asleep, exhausted beyond measure in its wake.

Her nightmares were filled with the same eerie silence that she had experienced earlier. She seemed to be standing inside her cell. There were people there, but all they did was stare at her. She recognised all of them: There was One, the drone who had committed suicide to save _Voyager_ from the Collective; Quinn, the Q who had sought asylum and then thrown his mortal life away ... there were more, but some of the faces kept shifting in and out of focus.

Somehow, that dream was infused with more fear than usual. Even in her nightmares, Kathryn could generally find a way out of most situations, but this time, she was unable to escape. The silent people cornered her and stared into her eyes, frightening her more than a Borg cube appearing on _Voyager_ 's viewscreen would have.

She was shaking when the scraping of a key in the lock of her cell door jolted her awake.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: It's been ages since I uploaded anything. I'm so sorry. Life got in the way. I'll try to be better about it.

* * *

"Murder?" Chakotay sounded as shocked as Kathryn felt.

"That's what it says on the PADD ..." She let him take the device from her numb hands. She'd known that there would be an evaluation of her command decisions. They'd told her as much at the debriefing a few months ago. Of course, she held herself accountable for her actions as captain. She'd often tried to re-examine some of her more difficult choices, the options she'd had and the losses that she'd caused. And one of the most difficult ones had been Tuvix.

* * *

Kathryn scarcely had time to wipe the cold sweat off her brow, before she was being led down the corridor the way she had come yesterday. Before the guard opened the door to the outside, she handed Kathryn a jacket and a spade.

Still shaky and cold in the wake of her nightmare, Kathryn was grateful for the additional layer of clothing. She also appreciated the smooth wooden handle of the spade. She'd come to enjoy manual labour during her time on New Earth, so the weight of the tool felt familiar and comforting.

The guard opened the door and stood back to let Kathryn pass. She didn't follow her, however, but locked the door as soon as Kathryn had stepped out into the pouring rain. Confused, Kathryn pulled her hood up and started to scan what little she could see of the area for signs that anyone had been digging there lately.

When she didn't find anything that looked like a dig site, she decided to explore the dark grounds. If she'd had a tricorder, she would probably be digging already, but she found that she enjoyed the challenge of trying to figure out what she was supposed to be doing. It had been a while since she had truly enjoyed anything, so she just went with it, pretending – or at least trying to – to be on an M class planet where her scanning equipment didn't work.

She was just rounding a corner when something caught her eye. She could have sworn that she had just seen someone moving to her left. Kathryn instinctively reached for her phaser, but her fingers hit the spade in her other hand instead. She gripped the tool more firmly and veered left to try and find the source of the movement. It was still raining heavily and the ground was slippery, so she moved cautiously to avoid losing her footing on the soggy grass.

Had she moved less carefully, she might have overlooked the mud-caked arm that was protruding from beneath a bush. The frail joy that her imaginary task had sparked in her chest turned to ice cold terror in the blink of an eye, stopping her in her tracks.

She had seen too many corpses to have any doubts that the man in front of her was dead. She glanced around to make sure that she was still alone and crouched down beside the body. It was covered head to toe with a thin layer of soil, so Kathryn couldn't say if she had seen the dead man before, but she knew what she had to do next.

She got to her feet and drove the blade of the spade into the wed sod next to the body. Prisoner or not, a man was dead!

Kathryn hurried back to the door, knocking frantically. While she waited for the guard to open it, she looked around, making sure she could see her spade, if not the corpse.

She didn't hear anything aside from the pounding rain, but the tight grip on her upper arm made her aware of the guard's presence.

"What now, inmate?" she bellowed, clearly furious. "You think you can get out of this on account of the rain? Let me tell –"

Kathryn managed to yank her arm out of her vise-like grip. "Listen to me," Kathryn almost yelled to make herself heard above the downpour. "I just found a dead man in the grounds. You have to get a medic out here!"

The guard levelled her with a steely gaze. "It's too late for that. You should have helped him while you could. Bury him."

Kathryn couldn't believe her ears. She couldn't believe that a human being – even a prison guard – could be so dispassionate about a person's death. She shook her head, trying to make the other woman understand. "This is not about me! You have to –," she cried, but was cut off.

"I said it's too late," the guard bellowed and stood back in order to slam the door. Right before it closed, however, a flash of lightning illuminated the scene, giving Kathryn the horrifying image of the dead man standing exactly where the guard had been. She let out a scream, then covered her mouth with her hand.

Thunder rumbled as the corpse's mouth opened: "You let me die!"

The door crashed shut and Kathryn was left in the rain once again, nausea gripping her insides.

When she could move again, she sped back to where her spade marked the location of the body. It was with mixed feelings that she confirmed that it was still there, dead eyes staring at the sky.

She was relieved, because it was unlikely that the corpse had actually stood in the doorway, but her blood ran cold, because now she knew exactly whose body she had discovered. She knelt down and wiped at some of the dirt that clung to the corpse's chest. Her stomach lurched when that move revealed the black and gold colours of his uniform. There was no doubt in her mind that she was staring down into Lieutenant Hogan's lifeless eyes.


End file.
